It's Snowing Again
by kiyokoyotsuki316
Summary: We're supposed to hate each other. That's the way its supposed to be. But then again... when is anything the way its supposed to be in South Park? KylexCartman, slight KennyxButters, and one sided StanxKyle. ps: I don't own anything from South Park. I am simply a fanfiction fanatic.
1. Chapter 1

It's snowing again… it's always snowing, always cold. I look ahead of me. The bus stop. "Hey Kyle!" I hear the chipper voice of my best friend, Stan, as he waves me over. I have no idea why he does that every morning. I've been waiting for the bus with them since elementary school, and we're in high school now. You'd think he'd expect me to by now, but still it's nice to feel wanted so early in the morning, even as the snow is falling and trying to cover everything. "Hey look! It's the jew boy." Cartman snickered. I frowned. "Shut up fat ass." I spat, him flipping me off. I turn back to Stan to see him rolling his eyes. "So anyway Kyle, I was wondering if you could come over to my house this afternoon?" Stan asked, ignoring Cartman. I grinned, and opened my mouth to agree, but before I could Cartman interjected. "He can't. He has to come to my house." I raised my eyebrow. "What the fuck for, fatty?" he stared blankly at me for a moment. "You just have to." Just as he finished his sentence, the bus pulled up, and he made sure he was the first one on.

"That was weird this morning." Stan commented, walking over to me, leaning against the lockers as I retrieved my books from my own. "Yeah I know. I have no idea why Cartman wants me over at his house." I sighed. "Are you going to go?" "No way dude! Its prolly just some anti-jew crap again." At that Stan chuckled. "Yeah, probably. But I won't be able to have company tonight." "Huh? Why not?" Stan sighed. "Uncle Jimbo and my dad are going out for drinks and mom is going out with her sister. Shelley will kill me if anyone is over while her boyfriend is there with her." He explained, grumbling alittle. I clapped my hand on his shoulder, grinning at him. "Hey! We're best friends. We'll get to hang out tomorrow!" I reassured, loving the relieved smile Stan gave back. "Shit! I've gotta get to class. Mrs. Harding is a real bitch; if you don't get there before the bell, detention!" he said, before turning and trotting down the halls, stopping once to turn and wave at me, yelling something like "I'll see you later!" then he was gone. I sighed. I should get to class too. I always dreaded my fourth period class. It was the one I had with Cartman. No sooner had I thought that name then I heard his voice. "Hey jew." He said in a much more passive way than usual. "what do you want fatass?" I sighed again, heaving my book bag over my shoulder. "you're coming over today right?" he asked, studying my face intently. I started to feel uncomfortable under his gaze, shifting the weight of my book bag on my back and averting my eyes as my cheeks started to heat up. "no way, fatty." I said, hoping my voice didn't falter. He huffed abit before stalking off to class.

"and as homework…" the teacher droned on. While still boring, today's fourth period wasn't as bad as usual. Today Cartman seemed to be lost in thought, making him affectively less of an ass. I looked over at him, already swinging his backpack over his shoulder, preparing for the ring of the release bell. He hasn't said one word all class… whatever though. No way I'm gonna be worried about fat ass over there! But even as I thought that, I found myself hoping nothing was wrong. Ah… the bell rang.


	2. Chapter 2

"give it back!" I yelped, straining desperately to retrieve my hat from the fat bastard. Over the years, I've grown quite a bit, but I'm still the shortest in our group of "friends", right next to Kenny. Cartman on the other hand, had gotten much taller, towering over me by about a half a foot, and his fat was still there, but due to his height, he looked much more evenly proportioned. "no way, kaaaaahl!" he whined my name like he used to when we were ten, except now, his voice couldn't go as high as it used to… I jumped again, "give it!" "nope!" he started running away from me with my hat. "ah! No!" I yelped, following. He ran down the shoulder of the road, near the trees and away from the bus stop. I looked nervously behind me. Stan and Kenny had yet to show… I sighed before running after Cartman. I had just barely made it into the shelter of the trees before I fell face first into the snow. Apparently, hidden beneath a heavy quilt of snow, was a small dip in the earth. I heard Cartman's brash laughter as I lifted my head and shook it, shaking off snow from my hat and the few strands of hair that had escaped it. "fuck off, lard ass." I spat, my face burning. I was surprised I hadn't melted a clearing around myself with the way my body heated up from embarrassment. "walk much, jew?" he sneered, still snickering at me. "oh look. The bus. Well, see ya, Kaaaahl." He said, laughing to himself as he stepped over me and made his way to the bus. I picked myself up, shivering slightly before I growled to myself. That fat tub of stupid has my hat. My favorite hat. The one Stan gave me for my birthday all those years ago. Guess I _was_ going to his house today.

I checked my watch… 4:55… I stared at the door to his house, from across the street. We_ hated_ each other. That's how it was supposed to be. Cartman and I were never supposed to be close. And I wanted nothing to do with him. I didn't want to be at his house. I didn't want to see his whore mother. I just wanted my hat back. I growled, steeled my nerve, and made my way to his house.

"he… hello Mrs. Cartman." I stammered, my pale cheeks burning. "oh hello, little Kylie!" she sung sickly sweet. "my poopie kins is in his room. Go right on up dear." She smiled, returning to washing dishes. I held back a gag as I noticed a few oversized sex toys in the dish washing machine and rushed up the stairs.

"hey fat ass. I'm here." I said, much less menacingly as I had intended. "come in." he said cooly from the other side of the door. I pushed the door open, coming upon a scene I was mildly shocked by. Cartman sat on his window sill, smoking a cigarette and staring off into the lazily falling snow. He never looked so calm… so peaceful… he looked almost… attractive. I mentally punched myself. He turned to look over his shoulder calmly. "my hat…" I stammered, reminding myself why I was here as well as asking for my prized possession back. He shrugged. "wanna play a game?" he asked, rubbing out his cigarette on his wrist, causing me to wince. If he noticed, he didn't show it, he simply moved from his perch to his bed and reached under, producing a Phillip and Terrance game for X-cube. I stared at him for a moment. What was bothering the fat bastard? I took a tentative step forward. "Cartman…" I started softly. "you wanna play or not? Oh, here." He reiterated, before reaching in a drawer by his bed and producing my hat, then throwing it to me. "what's this all about, Cartman?" I asked, cautious, but thrown off already by his behavior. "I just wanna hang is all." He said, still too calm for Eric Cartman. I did the only thing I knew how to do. "maybe if you weren't such a licentious fat ass, you'd have some friends to play with." I smiled smugly. Ah, familiar territory. When all else fails, piss him off. But it failed this time. To my horror, Cartman said nothing. He simply sighed, placing the game back under the bed. "just leave, Kyle." He said. And he said nothing else. He led me from his room, and closed the door behind me.


	3. Chapter 3

**alrighty then. third chapter. this is my first yaoi fanfic, and I hope it isn't too bad. please rate/reveiw, all that jazz (that jazz!) (sorry. had a _Chicago_ moment.)**

I slammed the door to my room, pressing my back against it and ignoring the way I shook when my mother slammed her fist against the door, demanding that I tell her why I came home red faced and flustered. I yanked off my hat, my red curls falling down around my face. After a while my mother had long given up on getting a response from me. I was planning to sleep early, to try to escape from this world for a few hours if possible. I had just tossed back the covers when I heard a rather timid knock on my door. I glanced at my alarm clock. 6:15… "who is it?" I asked flatly, getting underneath the covers. "it's me, Stan." His calm yet concerned voice called, pleading silently to be allowed access. "come in dude." I sighed. He opened the door slowly, his deep blue eyes trained on me immediately. "you alright, dude?" he asked, closing the door behind him. I didn't answer him, simply rolled over so that I was facing my window instead of my best friend. "what happened?" he asked thoughtfully, before anger overtook him. "what did Cartman do now?" he snarled. "he didn't _do_ anything. That's the problem." I said, trying to erase the way Eric's deep brown eyes looked when I rejected his offer of hanging out. "eh?" Stan asked, obviously and rightly confused. "he just wanted to hang out, I guess." I sighed. Stan spent all afternoon trying to cheer me up. He had to head home when it started to get dark and I waved him good bye at the door, feigning a smile for him. Then I returned to my room and sulked until I fell asleep.

"where's Cartman?" I asked, meeting up with Stan and Kenny at the bus stop. "I don't know. Guess he's not coming today." Kenny said, pulling his parka down from over his lips so that we could hear him clearly. Kenny hated the cold and usually bundled up a shit ton. I guessed it was because he was used to how warm it was in hell. Before long, the bus pulled up. Kenny was the first on, then Stan. I had placed one foot on the metallic steps before the nagging feeling in my chest came flying at me. "um you know what? I'm not feeling too well. I think I'm going to go home." I said, nodding apologetically at the bus driver, who sneered, rolling her eyes. "oh. Okay. See ya dude. I hope you feel better." Stan said, obviously seeing that I wasn't sick, but not being one to ruin something for his friend. I stepped back as the bus drove on. I turned and started walking towards Cartman's house.

I stood at the front door of the Cartman residence, my fist suspended in the air in front of the door. I had been here for almost five minutes, not being able to bring myself to knock yet. I took a deep breath. Why am I so nervous? I kept picturing the faraway look on his face as he sat on his window sill. I coughed, trying to erase the blushing burn on my face. I knocked a few times. "Goddamn it! Who the fuck is it?" I heard the rude lard ass yell from inside as he made his way to the door. "yeah? Oh. It's you." He said calmly as he opened the door, so apparently his mother wasn't home. He regarded me apathetically, which hurt a bit. This wasn't our usual hatred. This was… indifference. And it made me panic. "wanna hang out?" I blurted, blushing as I registered my own words. He raised an eyebrow at me. Silence fell between us, he still hadn't invited me inside, and I still hadn't made a move to come inside. "do you want to hang out? We could play that game. Or you know." I stammered slightly. Why was I so fucking nervous all of a sudden? He didn't say anything, simply opened the door wider, a silent "come in".

"so… what do you wanna do?" I asked, standing awkwardly in the middle of his room as he sat at his computer. "why did you come here?" he asked suddenly. His voice made me jump. It was so different from when we were kids. It had developed from that high, nasally noise to something deep and almost refined. "I came to hang out." I said, though I didn't really know why I had come. I was supposed to hate Cartman. Not care about what he feels. But here I was, hoping he wasn't mad at me. The glare he threw me stopped my thoughts dead. "do you love anyone, Kyle?" he asked suddenly. What was up with him? He wasn't making jew jokes, or trying to piss me off. He seemed like something was really bothering him. "I… I um…" I stammered, that question throwing me off completely. Did I? I hadn't put much thought into this since the time Bebe was convinced she was in love with me because of my… ahem… cute butt. And that was back in the first grade… "I… I love my little brother. And my mom and dad." I said truthfully, yet knowing that wasn't what he meant. He glowered at me and I gulped, his chocolate eyes making my brain go stupid. "no I don't think I do. Not in that way." I confessed, and finally he tore his eyes from me, looking out of the window again, still sitting at the desk in front of his computer. My eyes trained on the cigarette burns on his wrists and forearms and I cringed again. Something about knowing that they were self-inflicted really bothered me. "c'mon Cartman. Let's play that game."

He led me downstairs and into the living room. He pressed a few buttons on the television remote, reached down and pressed the large 'on' button on his X-cube and plopped himself on thecouch next to me, handing me the white controller, holding his own black one in his hands. We had been playing for almost thirty minutes when suddenly a loud gurgle echoed throughout the room. I blinked in confusion a few times, having paused the game to make sure the sound hadn't originated from that. I turned to Cartman, whose face was cherry red, just as another stomach growl resounded through the room. I giggled a little, watching his face go redder. "shut up, jew-rat! My mom didn't make breakfast before she left!" he growled. I stifled my giggling, smiling at him sweetly instead. He made this face, it wasn't one of hatred or discuss, and he seemed to some how get even redder, before he looked away from me, covering his mouth and mumbling something about making lunch for us.


	4. Chapter 4

I now sat in my room, laying splayed out on my bed and staring at my ceiling. Spending the day with Cartman wasn't so bad. We played several games and he seemed to be getting back to normal. If I won he'd throw a little hiss fit and insult my heritage (real original, Cartman…) and he gloated excessively when he won. The lunch he made us was surprisingly delicious. I don't know why I was surprised that the fatty could cook, I guess the thought of him doing anything for himself surprised me and made me feel… proud? And that look in his eyes… my breath hitched a little and my heart fluttered. His eyes. I found myself captivated by them, doting on them in my memories. I rolled over and checked my alarm clock. Almost time for me to sleep… I sighed, closing my eyes and my thoughts returned to Cartman. As my mind and body drifted off to sleep, the last thing I imagined was those chocolate orbs Cartman called eyes.

"dude you look like shit." Stan said oh so flatteringly as I stepped up beside him at the bus stop. "yeah I know. I didn't get much sleep last night." I said, and it was true. After I woke from a dream in the middle of the night I hadn't gotten much sleep. I was a bit disturbed that my dream had involved the fat ass that had occupied many of my thoughts lately. Disturbed. But not surprised. In my dream, I was being chased by wolves, huge, snarling, hungry wolves. And then Cartman had appeared. He was fighting them off, and when he had killed the last one, he turned to me with a face of concern and love and held out his hand. I took it and hugged him and started crying. I was sobbing so hard in my dream that my body was shaking as though I was sobbing and it eventually woke me up. "Kyle!" Stan called, waving a hand in front of my face. I had blacked out apparently and I snapped back to reality quickly. "oh, sorry dude. I'm just. Really tired." I answered, forcing a smile. "up all night counting all your dads stolen jew money?" Cartman sniggered and I felt my face heat up. "fuck you, you fat jelly filled mother fucker!" I yelled, only getting angrier as I saw a smirk make its way across his lips. There's no way that asshole would defend me! No fucking way!

Fourth period. Public speaking. I hated this class. I hated writing speeches, hated giving speeches, hated how my voice was never loud enough, and I especially hated how I stammered and forgot how to speak when I looked into Cartman's eyes. I had just finished giving my speech on inflation in America and had taken my seat when our teacher stood. "I'm seeing a pattern in your speeches, children. It seems that you all do decent research, but that you lack planning. You all just get up here and try to speed through your speech. I'm going to assign pairs. I want you all to go home and practice your speeches on each other at least twice a week." She explained, beginning to look around the room. Daniel Harthy, you work with . Kathy, you work with Joseph. Her eyes set upon me, and her mouth moved to form the words I dreaded the moment she mentioned pairs. "Kyle Brofloski. You work with Eric." I let my head fall to my desk and heard a grumble from the back of the class, where Cartman sat.

"so, jew boy. You wanna come over today to work on our new speech assignment?" the brunette boy asked, leaning on the lockers beside mine. I sighed, feeling my face heat up. "no, Cartman. I have to go home today." I said, not looking at him. I heard him huff and stomp away, and when I was certain he was out of eyesight and ear shot, I sighed again. "I can't go to the fat ass's house until I figure out what's wrong with me." I closed my locker and made my way to the gym, where I knew he would be.

"hey dude! What's up? You look kinda down." Stan greeted me cheerfully, his smile drooping a bit when he saw my troubled expression. "hey dude." I said, a little drably. "can I speak to you?" I asked, already turning away from him, expecting him to follow. And he did. "so what's up dude?" he asked when we stopped, we were in the boys locker room. Since everyone was at basketball practice, no one should be here. I checked every stall anyway. Just to make sure. "I have been feeling weird lately. I think I might be sick." I explained once I was sure no one would over hear this, and Stan nodded his head thoughtfully. "what's wrong?" he asked tilting his head slightly. "well, my chest starts doing this fluttering thing, and my face gets hot and I get all sweaty." I said quickly, hoping he could decipher my speed talking. A smile spread slowly across his face. "does this happen at random?" he asked, obviously trying to control a snicker. I frowned. "well… no… I don't know! Why does that matter?" I asked, a bit put off that my best friend thought this was amusing. He cleared his throat, his smile disappearing. "I mean, does it happen all the time or just when you're around a certain person?" he, asked, feigning seriousness. After a few seconds of me giving him a confused look, he continued. "Dude, you're in love." Stan said matter of factly, failing at being serious and finally letting out his laughter. "what? What! What?!" I screeched, and face palmed myself for sounding so much like my mother. "anyone been on your mind a lot lately?" he asked, regaining his composure and smiling at me friendlily. I thought back to the past few weeks. Had I paid anyone special attention in my thoughts? Then my face paled. "dude I gotta go." I muttered, hoisting my book bag over my shoulder and turning away from my friend. "eh? Dude I didn't mean to piss you off!" he called after me as I pushed open the locker room door.


	5. Chapter 5

"this cant fucking be!" I yelled whispered to myself, not wanting to alert my mother. If she knew I was in love… and with who… oh god that would be the end of me! If this love wasn't already… I was pacing in my room, muttering to myself and biting my nails. Nasty habit really. I stopped, remembering Cartman's smoking habit and my face somehow paled and blushed at the same time. I _had_ to stop thinking of him. I thought of doing my homework to distract myself, but then I couldn't write my speech without thinking of him. The universe must _hate_ me. Of all people, of all the humans on earth, why that one? My first love. Why me? Why him? Ugh! I collapsed on my bed, covering my eyes with my sleeves. I felt like crying, but I couldn't. If I cried then that fat fuck won. I had to handle this with class. But how could I do that when the person on my mind had no class? I groaned, turning on my side, my legs dangling off of the bed. "this is fucking terrible…" I sighed. Wait. Did this mean I was gay? I sat up immediately. I hadn't thought of that. Am I gay? I was never all that into girls I guess… but I mean, I didn't think I was gay. I bit my lip. Another bad habit I had begun. One week of loving Cartman and I'm already starting all these bad habits. I winced as I bit too hard while I was lost in thought. I got up and went into the bathroom, checking my unintentional self-inflicted wound. Looked like I had gotten punched in the face. Great. One more thing for Cartman to antagonize me over. I bit my lip again and cringed at the pain as another thought hit me. Do I tell him? What the hell am I thinking? Of course I don't fucking tell him! The fat tub of lard will try to destroy me. Wasn't sure whether he would emotionally or physically yet. Then my cell phone rang. I walked slowly over to it, unlocking the screen to see Stan's face and number as my ringtone filled the room with sound. I slid the little green phone icon across the screen and held the phone up to my ear as his voice came through. "hey dude. I'm sorry about earlier. I didn't mean to make you angry." He said quickly. I smiled a bit. "nah it wasn't you. I just realized I had some serious thinking to do. Sorry, man." I said, realizing how strange it must have been for Stan. He had just helped me realize something and I ran off. Poor guy must've thought he fucked up bad. I heard a relieved sigh on the other end of the phone. "okay. You alright?" he asked, still concerned. "um. I'll be fine." I said, forcing a smile, even though I knew he couldn't see it. "well, hey, Kenny and I were gonna go get something to eat. You wanna come?" he asked, and I chuckled. He thought I needed cheering up. Which wasn't exactly false, I suppose.

I waited in the living room for Stan and Kenny to show up. So I sat down next to Ike as he watched some retarded kids show. Some kind of little weird creatures fighting each other, gotta collect them all, that kind of thing. It actually made me chuckle. What had been so appealing about things like that when I was his age? Ike turned to me upon hearing my chuckle. "What's so funny?" he asked boredly. "what is so fascinating about this show?" I asked. He seemed thoughtful for a moment. "for me, since I cant get real pets, having a bunch of fake ones is the next best thing." He explained. I had almost forgotten just how smart my little adoptive brother was. I smiled at him. Then an idea hit me. "hey, Ike…" I started but was cut off by the younger boy. "I have no idea how to help you with your problem." He answered, not taking his eyes off of the television. "who… how… what?" I squeaked. "I'm smart remember? I can tell when something is up. And no, I don't know who it is, but I do know you have it bad." He glanced at me from the corner of his eye, and grinned. I opened my mouth to make a rebuttal but a honking car horn outside silenced me. I glared at Ike and poked my tongue out at him, he grinned and returned the gesture before giggling softly, causing me to laugh as I left the house as well.


	6. Chapter 6

**okidokes, chapter 6 yallz. um, to mia, i have no idea how you keep glitching... those things shouldnt be in the chapters ive uploaded so far... i do appreciate your support though :) i guess it doesnt matter if it glitches and you end up reading ahead. thats fine. long as you enjoy the story.**

I was surprised to find an extra person along for the ride. I opened the passenger side door to find Stan driving, as expected. Kenny in the back seat, texting some female (which ever new one it was for this week. If it was gonna last _that_ long.) and joking. And Cartman. Eric T. Cartman. Sitting next to Kenny and joking along with him. My heart dropped, and shattered and the dust flew away in the wind and became mixed with snow and melted and ended up in a river getting drank by a deer and getting pissed out and used in deer hunting to kill the deer that had peed it out. I tried not to let it show and climbed into the car. "Uh hey guys." I muttered, giving Stan my most inconspicuous "dafuq" look. He shrugged. Of course he shrugged! I hadn't told him about my erm… "Problem" yet. I kicked myself mentally, shaking my head at him to dismiss the look I had given him. "Bennigans?" Stan asked, to no one in particular. "Nah man. Let's go to the movies!" Kenny chirped. I noticed then that he didn't have his parka on. Stan chuckled knowingly. "She wants to meet you there?" he asked and Kenny grinned, nodding vigorously. "Any objections?" Stan asked Cartman and I. Cartman shrugged, and I shook my head. "Movies it is then."

We decided to see an action horror movie. Something about a possessed child. It didn't hold the kind of magic it should for us considering we had been to another dimension, met the devil himself, stopped his takeover of our world, met the anti-Christ, heard the voice of god and the fact that Cartman was actually possessed once. Even if it was only by Kenny. But it was still a cool novelty. If that makes any sense. I was focused on trying to sit myself between Stan and Kenny. I could not risk being beside Cartman in this dark, semi-secluded, date scene. I felt my face burn as I thought this, handing my ticket to the attendant standing outside our theatre. Kenny ran off to find the girl of the evening and Cartman went to the concession stand (biiig surprise there.) so Stan and I went ahead into the theatre and decided we'd wait for them, and make fun of the movie previews while we did. "You feeling better?" Stan asked, leaning forward in his seat and smiling at me. My mind returned to my predicament. "Um… yeah, dude. I guess." I answered half-heartedly. He smiled sympathetically at me, clapping his hand on my shoulder. "It'll turn out, dude. I'll be right back. Gotta take a leak." He said. It'll turn out? What does that mean? I pondered watching him get up and shuffle past me out into the aisle. I sat there for a few minutes, watching the previews, when I felt someone sit down next to me in the seat Stan had been sitting in. I assumed it was him. "Dude, you missed the suckiest preview. It was a total chick flick! Bleh!" I laughed. "Is that so? I was hoping you'd go see it with me."


	7. Chapter 7

I shivered as I registered the words and voice speaking so close to my ear that I could feel their breath on my cheek, moist and warm. "Kenny! What the hell!" I squeaked, a little too loudly and looked around bashfully after shrinking into my seat. "Where's the girl you came to see?" I asked as he chuckled at my reaction. "She's a total nut case." He said, and I raised my eyebrow. "When I found her she started making this big stink about me being the father of her kid." He explained. I was quiet for a second. "Well… are you?" I asked flatly and he placed his hand over his chest in a show of being hurt, obviously fake. "Of course not! I've never even fucked her before." He said and I gave him a skeptical look. "I haven't. I keep all their names in my little black book." He paused, winked. "Besides, I have a certain person I like. Think I might change my ways for 'em. Anyway, I needed to talk to you." He said, getting a bit more serious. I sat up a bit, curious as to what he was going to say. "Have you noticed anything strange about Stan?" he whispered to me. I was taken aback a bit. "Um no. not necessarily. Why?" "Dude you haven't noticed? Really?" he yell-whispered. "Jeez. Is something wrong?" "I guess not. I just thought it was strange. Anytime you seem upset he turns into this like emotional pit bull." Kenny explained. "Emotional… pit bull?" I asked, in need of clarification. "Yeah. He gets all agro and snaps at anyone he thinks might've hurt you." He explained, apparently amused, and chuckled before continuing. "He even jacked Cartman up by his collar once and punched his lights out." Kenny said, making me blush. "So that's what happened. I was wondering how Eric got that black eye that week." I said, frowning a bit. "Why did Stan hit him?" I asked and Kenny grinned, his blonde hair falling over one crystal blue eye. "You don't see it? Its cause he lo-" Kenny was cut off by Stan throwing a box of malt balls at his face. "Dude. Get out of my seat." He said, his voice normal, but he shot a ferocious glare at Kenny, who simply grinned back at him, getting up. I wanted to ask Kenny what he was going to say, but I had bigger problems… somehow I had managed to have to sit between Cartman and Stan. It was. Weird to say the least. They seemed to have some sort of beef. Whenever I turned to speak to Stan, Cartman would make some snide remark, and Stan would say something twice as mean, and so on and so forth until someone shushed at them. Things really got heated when Stan and Cartman both tried to absentmindedly rest their arms on the back of my seat. When their arms touched, they glared. Stan pushed me forward, out of the way and they both stood, both kind of puffing out their chest. A fight was imminent. Stan reared back, his fist clenched and ready to give Cartman a new black eye. But Cartman was faster this time. Cartman upper-cutted Stan, and slugged him again before Stan had a chance to regain himself. "Cartman! What the hell?!" I squeaked, watching my best friend sink to the floor, obviously unconscious. ""fuck you Jew! You and your faggot boyfriend!" Cartman yelled at us, getting shushed by the few people that were still trying to watch the movie. Everyone else in the theatre was watching us like we were a fucking soap opera. "Cartman…" Kenny started, sounding disapproving. Cartman glared at him. "Shut up, you dirty hobo!" he said, more maliciously than usual. I looked down at Stan, out cold. Cartman was already out of the aisle and at the double doors of the theatre. "E… Eric!" I squeaked, running after the thick-built teenager.

"Eric!" I called, the movie theatre doors slamming loudly behind me as I stumbled into the parking lot after him. He kept walking like he hadn't heard me. "Eric, please!" I yelled, catching up to him and grabbing his arm, using all my strength to turn him to face me. He glared at me. "Why are you calling me that?" he hissed. It caught me off guard. "I… I… that's your name…" I stammered. "You never called me that before. So why start now? Why act like we're friends when we're not?!" he screamed in my face, making me wince. "We… because… I … Eric…" I couldn't find words, he was staring me with those deep brown eyes, burning with rage, starting to turn away from me and I panicked. I freaked and grabbed his collar, yanking him down towards me and slammed my lips into his. I felt him tense up, but he didn't fight it. When I pulled back, his eyes were calmer, and he had this dazed-out look in them. Then, he grabbed my cheeks, pulling me into another kiss. I was shocked, and elated. I didn't know what to do except kiss back. It was amazing. Years of hatred, of anger, of fighting all washed away with this one moment. He pulled away, an almost loving look on his face before he realized what had just happened. He pushed me back, causing me to trip and fall into about a foot of snow. He touched his hand to his lips, a dumbfounded look on his face. Then he ran. He ran faster than I ever saw the fat ass run. "Hey, dude, you ok?" Kenny asked, helping a semi-conscious Stan to Stan's car. "Did… did Cartman hurt you?" Stan slurred, putting up a drowsy looking fight when Kenny opened the passenger seat for him. I hadn't realized I had started crying until I saw the small indents in the snow in front of me, from where my tears had fell and melted it. "Come on. Let's get you home." Kenny sighed, and it was then that I noticed him patting my back. I sobbed, standing slowly, Kenny supporting my shaking form. I looked to the sky just before I climbed into the back seat of Stan's Volkswagen. Something cold fell on my cheek and melted, becoming one with my tears and sliding down my cheek. It's snowing again…


	8. Chapter 8

My mother nearly flipped her lid when I got home that night. She was screeching and yelling, demanding someone tell her why I was in tears. After realizing that Kenny and Stan actually didn't have a clue as to what caused my sobbing, she turned on me. "It was that whore's fat son, wasn't it?" she yelled, her eyes steely. "No, mom." I sighed, making my way up stairs after closing the door behind a moderately worried Kenny and Stan. "Don't lie to me, young man!" I glared at her, making her lose her cool for a moment. "He didn't do anything. And he's not fat." I defended, walking into the kitchen and reaching into the fridge for something to drink. That earning a glare back from her. "He's a fat bad influence! And I don't want you anywhere near him again. I told you time and time again that that boy was no good…" she started ranting and I felt my face heat up. "Shut up! You don't even know him!" I yelled, slamming the fridge door so hard that the whole counter shook. She looked appalled and slightly scared, and she moved out of the way when I stormed past and up the stairs.

I sat on my bed angrily, fuming for what must have been thirty minutes or so. And when the anger melted away, I started to think of him again. I groaned inwardly at myself. This was stupid. He obviously didn't like me. He pushed me away. Then another little voice in my head, hope, I think it's called, spoke up. 'Oh, but kylie-boy. He did kiss you, too!' it quipped, making me glare inwardly as well. "He pushed me away. Literally. Pushed. I was sitting in the snow when he left. And… he didn't come back…" I sighed. Of course he didn't. What did I expect? But, the little voice chimed again, he did kiss you. That had to have meant something. I groaned. This was so retarded. We were supposed to hate each other. That's how it was. We hated each other. But yet… there was that kiss now. And I now knew that I didn't hate him, or if I even could hate him again. I closed my eyes, breathing as calmly as possible. I felt my cheeks heat up as I remembered his lips against mine, the smell of his skin, the way his hands, so much bigger than mine, gripped my face. I sighed as I finally slipped off into sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

"Poopie-kins! Please open up! I made dinner!" my mother called, in that sickly sweet voice of hers. I didn't answer. I didn't want to be bothered. Especially not by that whore. I turned over in bed, my back to my bedroom door. "Eric! Please, sweetums." She pleaded, knocking delicately. I growled softly, yanking the covers over my head. After a few minutes her knocking ceased and I heard her walk down stairs. So I could finally concentrate on what I wanted to, needed to. Why would Kyle do that? Why would he kiss me? What did he have to gain? I growled, remembering Stan. Who did he think he was? Telling me who I could and could not like? Fuck him. He pissed me off even more because he was the only other person in our "group" who wasn't of any minority. I didn't have any ammo against him. And he and Kyle… he was much closer to Kyle then I could ever be. I began grinding my teeth subconsciously at the thought. All he had to do was smile and he had Kyle's attention. I have to make a complete ass of myself to get the damn ginger to look my way, and when he does, it's not approvingly. I don't remember when I first realized I was being so mean to Kyle because I only wanted his attention, and I don't remember when the desire for attention transmogrified into a desire for his love. However, I do remember when Stan and I realized we were after the same prize.

I had stayed after school because my mom had called and said she'd be having "company", which was code for she was going to get fucked by a guy she didn't really know and she didn't want me walking in. again. So I had time to kill, even though I knew that I could stay at school for hours and there would still be a chance I would come home to my mother's moans and sketchy stains on the carpet in several areas of the house. I had walked around the halls a few times when I decided to go to the gym, watch coach get all hot and bothered over his under-aged basketball players. Seriously. How did he even get that job? Anyway, I walked in and there was Stan, sitting at the very bottom of the bleachers, so sweaty his hair was plastered to his forehead and his chest was still heaving. He was bent over a notepad in his lap, writing something. I felt my eyebrow raise and the familiar tug of curiosity in my chest. What was so important that the jock was taking every spare moment from practice to write it? Well, he hadn't noticed me yet, and he still didn't when he was called by Coach Fondler (I shit you not, that's his real name.) to get back on the court. Stan dropped the notebook in his book bag, which was left gaping open on the gym floor against the bleachers, just _begging_ to be robbed. I casually strolled by, ducking a bit to reach down into the book bag, and resumed my walk, right out the back door of the gym. He never saw me. So I made my way to the library, which was chock full of nerds or idiots who hadn't studied for a test tomorrow. I walked to the very back, to the table blocked from anyone's view thanks to the tall book shelves and a lack of a window on that corner of the room. Once there I produced the notebook, and flipped it open. I still remember the feeling of rage that swept over me the minute I saw the first page. Drawn there, across the standard 50 blue lines, was the name 'Kyle' in blue pen, with little pink highlighter hearts and black swirls surrounding it. I contained myself as I turned the page.

"We've been through so much

I yearn for your touch

My dear sweet kosher honey

Mr. Kyle B."

What was that? A love poem? Stan really sucked at poems apparently… I checked the date written in the top right corner of the page, a habit drilled into kids around South Park from pre k, up. This was written months ago. I turned the page. Another poem. And another and another. Oh look. A love story. I growled, using all my concentration to keep from ripping up the stupid jock's notebook and setting it a flame. Speaking of, I could really use a cig right about now. I sighed, trying to quell the blood lust in my bones. He wanted Kyle. The same Kyle I wanted. Why couldn't he go after Kenny? That poor hood rat would screw anything with a willing hole. The worst part? I couldn't do anything. My hands were tied. I could ruin Stan Marsh's life if I wanted. It wasn't hard to do at all, especially for someone like me. But that would make Kyle hate me. Like, really hate me. Even giving him aids didn't make him _hate_, hate me. (Perhaps I do go a bit too far…) But hurting Stan would. Sure, I could destroy him without having him know it was I who unraveled his world, but that would give me no satisfaction at all. I couldn't tell everyone he's gay. That could blow up seriously in my face. If I made the choice and forced Stan out of the closet, and it turns out that Kyle liked him back, well, I've just fucked myself over, now haven't I? Unless of course, their relationship goes horribly wrong. But who can take that chance? They've been best friends since pre k. hell, they might as well be dating already! No! I can't think like that. I still have a chance in this game. I know it.

Now, I'm just confused. I'm near terrified of letting myself be happy about the kiss. What if there was an ulterior motive? Or what if he says it's a mistake? What if my kissing him scared him off? I groaned. This sucked so much balls. I could still feel his lips on mine and I smiled in spite of myself. The Jew boy had such soft lips and he felt so frail in my hands. I closed my eyes and as I drifted off to sleep, I thought to myself "Kyle Brofloski will be mine".


	10. Chapter 10

As I approached the bus stop, I found it hard to contain my disappointment at Eric's absence. "Kyle! You ok?" Stan asked upon my arrival. "Um yeah, dude. I'm good." I lied. I knew this heavy feeling inside of me wouldn't go away until I saw Eric, even though I dreaded the awkward exchange that was bound to happen when I did. Kenny watched knowingly, sighing and shaking his head. I watched him for a moment. What was he going to say in the movie theatre? I decided I would ask him on the way to lunch, since we both shared a fourth block.

Eric was apparently not coming to school today, as I had searched for him everywhere, being late to both my morning classes, and had not seen hide nor lard of him. I lied and told myself that I didn't care if the fat bastard failed class and had to be held back. But the nervous way I toyed with my snow gloves was a dead giveaway, and Kenny noticed. "What's up man?" he asked, patting me on my back as he led me from the bustling lunch room. I steeled my nerve, now or never! Can't beat around the bush right now! "What were you gonna say in the movie theatre?" I blurted, blushing slightly. Kenny looked surprised for a moment, before laughing a bit. "Can't say now. Stan'll kill me." He said, shaking his blonde hair out of his face. I pouted, giving him my best puppy dog face (one of the advantages to being the one in your group of friends that didn't get slapped with manliness by puberty) and he sighed, deciding that he was probably gonna die again today anyway. "Stan loves you, man."

"Um yeah, we're best friends. I love him too." I said, a bit confused as to why this was what Stan was hiding from me. Kenny groaned, rolling his eyes. "No, dude. He fucking" he grabbed my shoulders and shook me slightly. "_Loves_ you." For a moment, I didn't get it. But after the word "love" bounced around in my head a few times, my eyes widened. "He loves me?!" I squeaked, breaking from Kenny's grasp and falling back against the lockers, causing a loud crashing sound, luckily no one was around to hear it due to most people being in the cafeteria. "That can't be. That _can't_ be!" I wheezed, my asthma starting to act up. "Hey, hey, calm down! Dude, calm down." Kenny spoke calmly to me, cupping my cheek softly in his orange gloved hand. "What's so bad about him loving you? Thought you two would be a cute couple…" Kenny started, removing his hand from my face and cupping his own chin in thought. "No! This is horrible! Now I can't ever tell Stan who _I_ love!" I had started crying at this point. Kenny looked surprised. "Huh? You don't love Stan?" he asked, truly confused. "No! I love… I love Cartman" I squeaked tears running down my now reddened face. "Oh man. Dude, I'm sorry. I didn't know. Calm down man, please." Kenny pleaded as I slid down the lockers and curled into a ball on the floor. When Kenny reached out to touch me, I flipped. I ran as fast as I could, barely taking the time to get up on two feet. As I shoved my body against the double doors of the schools entrance, I sobbed openly, ignoring Kenny's calling after me, and hoping I could out run the stocky teen when I heard his sneakers squeak against the tile flooring of the main hallway. I had only gotten about a yard away from the door when I crashed into something. Something taller and thicker than me. I grunted as my ass made contact with the cold snow and ground and looked up to see the most angelic thing I had ever seen. Eric Cartman, standing there with his blue Puma book bag slung over one shoulder, the sun trying it's best to shine through the constant grey cloud cover, giving him a kind of halo of light.. His face held an apathetic look until he realized who had just run into him, and then it softened. He dropped his book bag into the snow next to him and squatted down to be on my eye level as I sat in the snow. "Are you gonna end up with ur Jew-boy ass in the snow every time we see each other now?" he asked, laughing slightly. I laughed too, feeling my tears still streaming down my face. "Shut up, you lard ass." I grinned at him, and he at me.


	11. Chapter 11

"Huh. So the lardo loves Kyle back, eh?" Kenny spoke to himself, watching from the slim rectangle window in the steel double doors. "If that can happen… maybe…" he stroked his chin in thought, turning to see the cafeteria being let out. His eyes trained on the person who had been occupying his thoughts for weeks now. The younger blonde, in the light blue coat, reminiscent of the one he used to wear back when he was eight. He still twiddled with his fingers, still stammered and still didn't really need to do anything to get grounded. Butters noticed him, and grinned, his cute little girlish face causing Kenny's heart to skip. "Well, hi-hiya, Kenny! I noticed you weren't at lunch and golly I guess it's stupid but I got ki-kinda worried about ya." Butters beamed, speaking so cheerfully regardless of how many spitballs had gotten stuck in his hair and to his coat. I brushed them off, smiling at him as his face tinted a bit. "Ah… Kenny?" he stuttered, blushing harder as my face drew closer to his. "Save the princess, get a kiss." I sighed, before pressing my lips to his. Everyone gagged, squealed or was left completely speechless, and honestly I didn't care. I didn't give any fucks what everyone else thought. I only had time for Butters. Because Butters had kissed me back.


	12. Chapter 12

Cartman's smile fell a bit and his eyes got this far off look. "You ok?" I asked, letting him pull me up so that I was standing again. "We… we should talk." He said, producing a cigarette from somewhere in his coat and putting it to his lips, as his other hand brought a lighter in front of his face. He lit it and stared into the flame for a bit before bringing it to the end of his cigarette. I frowned a bit, but decided to opt out of the endless Jew jokes and keep my mouth shut about the health hazards of smoking. "Let's go." He commanded, already starting to walk away. "Ah! W-wait!" I stammered, grabbing his book bag from the ground as I ran to catch up with him. "Where are we going?" I asked when I was finally walking next to him. "My house." He answered before taking a long drag on his cigarette. "Hey, Eric…" I started, watching my feet as we walked. "Yeah, what is it, kosher?" he asked. That was a new one. And it didn't sound insulting at all… "Doesn't it hurt when you do that?" I asked, pointing to his wrists, which were almost completely covered at the moment due to his red sports jacket and blue gloves. He didn't seem surprised. "No. I don't really feel anything." He said in indifference, causing me to frown a bit.

When we came to his house he turned to me. "Stay here for a sec." he instructed and I nodded. He jumped off of the stoop, walking calmly around the corner of the house. A few moments later, he opened the front door for me to come in. "where's your mom?" I asked, taking my snow caked shoes off at the door. "Who cares?" he snapped, making me regret asking. "Sorry…" I muttered, looking at my socks now. He sighed. "It's fine. Come on. Let's go upstairs." He said, already turning and walking that way, making me rush to catch up with him for the second time today. I sat on his bed as he let his sports coat fall from his shoulders and to the floor, stepping on it like he didn't care. "You um…" I paused, forgetting what I was going to say as he pulled his dark blue shirt over his head slowly, unknowingly giving me a terrible tease (well honestly it's hard to tell if he knows what he's doing to me or not.). After it was off, he paused from undressing near his closet to give me a curious look. "Oh! Um, you… you wanted to talk?" I managed to mumble as I took in his body. He had lost a lot of his weight over the years, the beginnings of toned muscles showing beneath his skin. He was still big, but not fat. He was built like a fucking tank. It made me shiver, knowing how much bigger he was than me. "Yeah. I love you." He said. Not in a cutesy way, like couples do when they've established that they love each other, and not in a shy way. He said it he was stating a fact, or telling me the answer to an algebra problem, but his cheeks tinged pink. "You… you um. Love me?" I stammered again, blushing bright red, almost matching my hair. "Yeah. You love me too, right?" he asked, turning after picking out a black and light blue band t-shirt from his closet. I nodded vigorously, my face burning. A smile broke out on his face, and he came over to me, still shirtless and still holding his black shirt in hand. He gripped my chin lovingly as he made me tilt my head to look up at him. Then he kissed me, and I couldn't contain my joy. I threw my arms around his neck, pulling him down over me on the bed. He grunted in pleased surprise at my forwardness. After a few seconds, he began licking my lip and I gasped slightly, giving him the access he had wanted, and he took full advantage, ravaging my mouth and memorizing every nook and cranny, before coaxing my tongue to play with his own. After making out for a few minutes, we pulled away, both blushing like crazy; hair mussed a bit and both panting. He grinned at me and I at him before he pulled away to pull on his suicide silence t-shirt. "So… are we… you know… together?" I asked, averting my eyes from him. He chuckled, his smile lighting my heart aflame. "Yeah. We are. Wanna go to out somewhere?" he asked, holding out his hand for me to take.

We ended up going out to Stark's pond. It wasn't as clean as it used to be when we were younger and it wasn't really even clean then, and at this time of year it was just starting to freeze over, but the ice was far too weak to support any ice skaters yet. We sat on the hood of his car, staring out at the sky's reflection on the murky water. He seemed to be deep in thought for most of the time, and at some point, curiosity got the better of me. "Eric, what's wrong?" I whispered, laying my head on his shoulder. He hesitated for a moment, before turning and kissing me on my fore head. "Nothing, kosher." He said and I realized that "kosher" must be my pet name. A dysfunctional one. One that paid homage to the relationship we used to share. I liked it. We spent the rest of the night out by the pond, him helping me sneak into my room when it was time for me to go home. He stopped me before I climbed the tree outside my window, pushing me against it's trunk and pressing his lips against mine. When he pulled away, he took my hand and slid something around it. I held up my wrist in the moonlight to see a small metal band, a single green gemstone shone on it. It was simple, and more beautiful than anything I had ever seen. I looked up at him, tears brimming in my eyes. "oh god, don't cry, Kyle." He said, rolling his eyes and kissing my forehead lightly. I nodded, hugging him tightly before turning and beginning to climb. I leaned out of my window, him sitting on a tree branch just outside it, and we shared one last kiss for the night.


	13. Chapter 13

The next morning I was surprised to find an unexpected person waiting for the bus with us. Butters and Kenny were cuddled up against the cold, both of them jammed into Kenny's oversized hand-me-down parka. Kenny was whispering sweet nothings in Butter's ear, and Butters would giggle and blush and whisper a half-hearted "stop it". Kenny smiled when he saw me, and winked before turning his attention back to his coat-buddy. I looked at Stan, whose face had swollen a bit, starting to heal up. He smiled at me, and I forced a smile back. It felt wrong, accepting his warm smile when I now knew how he felt, and couldn't return the feeling. Then I looked at Cartman, who was seemingly uninterested in my arrival. I frowned, walking over to him. "Um, hi." I said, waving my hand in his face, and yelping when he slapped it away. "Leave me alone." He spat. My heart sank. My whole body quivered as I tried to hold back tears. He didn't seem to notice. He was the first on the bus, followed by Kenny and Butters (the two of them gave the bus driver a mild surprise). When I stepped on the bus, Stan stopped me, pulling my arm to make me face him. I tried to look away, to hide my flushed, teary eyed face. But he made me look up at him, a stern yet caring look on his face. "You ok, dude?" he asked, and I broke down a little. I hugged his chest, sobbing openly. "Are you two getting on?" bust driver snorted, sneering at us impatiently. "Um, yeah." Stan answered uncertainly, patting me on my back so I would look at him. "You coming?" he asked, in a concerned way, not wanting me to if I didn't feel up to it. I smiled weakly through tears, sniffling as I nodded. We sat together on the bus, avoiding the back as that was where Cartman had seated himself since his usual bus seat companion was busy doting on his own boyfriend. I sat near the window and Stan the outside seat. Seems like he was always my protector. Even now, so passive, but watching for any threat to me. It made me feel special, that someone was so willing to keep me from harm. I sighed, looking down at my wrist and feeling a slight tingle where the band Cartman had given me touched my skin. I avoided looking to the back of the bus the whole ride, and though I told myself I was being silly, I could swear I felt Cartman glaring at me.

"So what was that all about this morning?" Kenny asked me, walking towards me as I put my books up in my locker before lunch. It was the first time all day I had seen without Butters. "Butters had some extra work to do in the office, so I have some time." He explained as if reading my thoughts. I felt the familiar prickling beneath my eyelids as tears threatened to ravage my face again. I gulped, holding them back… for now. "I don't know, Ken. He just… we had such an awesome night together, and we even made it official…" I lifted my wrist, pulling back my green undershirt so that Kenny could see the silver band around my wrist. I had no idea why I still had it on, and I knew I wouldn't be showing it to anyone but Kenny. Every time I even thought about the wristband, I could feel it tingling on my skin, a reminder of the cold way I had been treated this morning. "He… gave you that?" Kenny asked, dumbfounded. I nodded. "Wait… you guys didn't…" he started, making my face light up like a Christmas light. "No! No no no no!" I hissed. He sighed a sigh of relief. "Anyway" I paused, shooting Kenny a "I can't believe you thought I'd do that on the first night" glare, "we had such an amazing night together. Then I get to the bus stop and he acts like it never happened." I finished, gulping again, trying to hold back my emotions, and staring at the wrist band on my arm. Kenny came closer to me, resting his hand reassuringly on my shoulder. "You should talk to Cartman." He said smiling friendlily at me, turning when he heard Butters calling him from down the hall. "Gotta go, man. Don't let it bother you too much." Kenny said, before running off to meet Butters and entering the cafeteria hand in hand with said blondie.


	14. Chapter 14

During fourth period Eric acted as though I didn't even exist. We read our speeches as though each other weren't in the class with the other.

As I sat on the bus, in the same seating arrangement as I had this morning, I caught Cartman's eyes. He was indeed glaring at me, and it only intensified as Stan scooted into the seat next to me. "So Kyle, wanna come over to my house?" Stan asked, smiling. I blinked for a moment. Would Cartman get mad? He certainly didn't seem too happy now… but whose fault was that? He's the one who was all cold and icy this morning. I don't know what he expected. "Sure, Stan."

We got off the bus, Stan, Cartman and I, (Kenny had decided to walk Butters home) and the awkward silence ensued. When it came time to part ways, I looked up to see Cartman glaring at me, his eyes a swirling chocolate thunderstorm of hurt. And I immediately felt terrible. I wanted to run to him, tell him I love him and hug him as close as was physically possible. But I felt Stan lead me away from him, my eyes not leaving Eric's until I couldn't see him through the falling snow.

"Where are your parents?" I asked, walking into Stan's house behind him. He grinned at me. "They went out of town. Won't be home for a whole two weeks. And Shelley is staying with her boyfriend til they get back." He explained, taking his red and blue wool hat from his head and sitting it on the coffee table under the key hooks. "Wanna play a game?" he asked, still smiling. I put on a smile for him, nodding, yet my mind was still trained on Cartman and the look in his eyes. "Wanna just stay the night?" Stan asked, beaming and I nodded hesitantly, walking over to the phone to call my mother.

She seemed more than happy that I was spending time with Stan instead of Kenny or Cartman… judgemental bitch. I hung up the phone, frowning, before turning to Stan, a smile back on my face. "so dude, what do you wanna do?" I asked, trying to sound cheery. He didn't seem to notice, as he produced two game controllers. "oh yeah." I chuckled softly, walking over with him to the couch. Seemed to me that every house in south park (with the exception of token's) had about the same layout. Living room downstairs, couch television, next to the kitchen; rooms and bathrooms upstairs. I sighed as I sat next to Stan, remembering the day I had spent with Cartman on his couch gaming.

"stupid fucking kike." I growled, kicking over a trashcan in someones yard. I nearly screamed obscenities when I remembered that my key was broken and that id have to practically break into my own house. I made my way through the snow, back to the kitchen window, climbing up on the pile of wood that we never used and through the window, stepping carefully on the edge of the sink. I sighed, closing the window behind me. Who knows when mom would get enough money for a new key (I shuddered to think of how she got her money anyway). I shook some of the snow off of my person, before removing my coat and boots and trudging upstairs. "dumb… ass… fucking… bottom… jew… girly… bitch…" I cursed with each steps up the stairs to my room. Then I slammed that so hard, the pictures in the hallway shook. My mother wasn't here. And I was glad for small miracles. I was not in the mood for her high-pitched sugar coated voice, and I was damn sure not in the mood to hear her with one of her "gentleman callers." As she put it. I snorted. You can spruce up the way you word it, mommy dearest, but you can not change the fact that you're a whore. "speaking of whores…" I mumbled, my mind turning back to Kyle. "what the fuck was his problem?" I mumbled. Did he think it was okay for him to just run off with Stan? It's not! I mean, sure I told him not to touch me, but I didn't need others finding out. I mean, as soon as they know I'm gay, all of a sudden I'm a minority and I get called a hypocrite for making fun of others. And god forbit they know that Kyle is gay. Id have to practically carve my name into him to keep guys off of him! well, that doesn't sound too bad actually. Wonder if Kyle would let me do something like that? I suddenly hoped that Kyle was a masochist. It would match my sadism perfectly. Well, the sadist part of me anyway. My eyes trailed down my own wrists, looking at the self-inflicted burns. Kyle had noticed them, what he hadn't noticed – I paused in my thoughts to roll up the sleeve of my black shirt- was the various scars and bruises. I had been cutting since about fifth grade. That was around the time I noticed something about myself. I couldn't feel… anything. Sure, I derived pleasure from causing problems for others, making others cry, hurting others (I once had a masochist girlfriend. While she wasn't the best looking (id have rather dated Wendy honestly, she was that bad) she was a lot of fun. Though one day she said she couldn't take it. I think she moved out of south park), but that wasn't real pleasure. I never smiled of my own accord unless I was acting to get what I wanted. I rarely laughed unless Kenny died. I felt… so empty most of the time. The pain I gave myself, reminded me that I was human. The few times I did smile, were moments Kyle gave to me, granted he probably would never dream that he was making me feel anything other than hatred, but he was. When he helped me with my math, even though I made jokes about his jew-money counting skills. When he smiled friendlily, despite himself, it would make my heart skip. I punched my wall. "fucking dumb-fuck jew." I growled, not really feeling anything as my hand broke through plaster. That's why I had to start with the burns. After a while, id get numb from the cuts and couldn't feel them, even as I saw the blood trailing down my arms. So id switch between burning and cutting for days at a time. Those emo kids at school had no idea what it was really like. I sighed, trying to calm the burning of anger in my chest. Why didn't that jew get it? I decided that I needed to think, laying sprawled out on my bed, rubbing my temples. Maybe I should get a smoke. I picked up my pack of cigarettes from the window sill, crushing it when I saw that I was all out. that fucking fat lard bitch of a mother mustve been taking my cigs again. I growled, picking my coat angrily from the floor as I made my way outside.

I was stomping through the snow banks angrily. Why did the fucking convenience store have to be so far away? Why did that whore-bitch have to take the car where ever she went? Why am I suddenly noticing that I have to pass Stan's house to get there? I stood across the street from Stan's, glaring.


	15. Chapter 15

**yay! chapter 15! sorry for the sporatic updates. I'm kinda just running with it... hahaha any way, thanks for reading! please review! i would love to know what you guys think. also, I'm going to start a KennyxButters story, that'll loosely tie into this one. very loosely. **

* * *

"You feeling ok, dude?" Stan asked quietly, killing my character in the game we were playing once again. "Um yeah… I'm fine. Just a bit out of it." I answered, chuckling nervously. Of course I was "out of it"! I couldn't get that lovable lard ass out of my brain. "That's fine. Let's just watch some TV." He suggested, already turning his game system off. I feigned another smile.

After about an hour or so of watching random shows, Stan turned to me. "Kyle?" he spoke and I smiled at him, the closest thing to an authentic smile I had given since we had gotten off the bus. "Yeah, what is it dude?" I asked, frowning a bit when I noticed that something was bothering him. "I can tell you anything… right?" he asked, and I felt the dread sinking my heart. I knew what this was leading to. "Um yeah! That's what best friends are for!" I paused, putting emphasis on the word 'friend', "dude, you got any snacks?" I asked, trying to find a way out of the impending situation. To no avail I saw, with my heart seeming to sink lower as he took my hands in his, his deep blue eyes boring into my emerald ones. "Kyle…" he paused, searching my eyes with his own, breathing deeply. "I love you."

I heard the snow crunching as I fled the house. I remember tripping over the couch arm when I tried to jump from it, tumbling and crashing into the floor. I felt terrible; I know Stan was going to think I hated him, but I just couldn't stay there, in that house, completely alone with him. I just couldn't. I'd call him later and explain. Nevertheless, for now, I had to flee. I heard him call my name, the shuffling as he got up to follow me. I became vaguely aware of myself mumbling "this is bad." Repeatedly. I could not handle this. Two people I had known almost all my life, confessing their feelings for me out of the blue? This was way too much! Especially for someone who sparsely got any romantic attention from anyone! I tripped, falling into the snow and laying there sobbing for a moment. I wanted Eric to swoop in and save me from all these feelings in me, even though he was the cause of most of them. "Kyle…?" I heard and picked myself up, sitting on my knees in the snow. Stan crouched down in front of me. "Kyle I'm so sorry. This doesn't… just pretend that never happened ok?" he said quickly, flustered. I sniffled. "Stan I'm sorry… I just don't…" I sniffed again, pausing to wipe my face. "I understand… if you're not gay…" he began, stopping immediately when I started sobbing more. "Um… that's not what's wrong?" he stammered slowly. I shook my head, my body shaking as I cried. Fuck. I hated that I had been crying so much in these past few days. I had never cried this much before, ever. I guess the down side to not having to deal with emotional and relationship problems much before. Seems like now all those problems I dodged during puberty and what not had come back full force. Like a fuckin freight train. I gasped for air as I tried to speak. "I… oh fuck, Stan, I'm sorry… I love Cartman."

The silence nearly broke me. Stan's breath hitched when he heard me. Then… nothing. Neither of us said anything for so long, and my blood was pounding so hard in my ears I just knew I was going to have a fucking brain aneurism. "Eric… Cartman?" he spoke finally, his voice a monotone. It scared me, honestly. I gulped, nodding. "Yes…" I breathed, my own breath hitching when he looked at me, his deep sapphire eyes brimming with tears. He stood, his chest rising and falling in an angry fashion. "How can you love that fat tub of asshole?!" he yelled, causing me to flinch. "S…Stan…" I started, staring up at him as he towered above me, his chest heaving as he breathed through his nose… he looked like a ticked off bull. "What did that fat fucker do to you?" he demanded, his tears falling now. Despite my feelings of guilt towards Stan at the moment, I took great offense to that. I have no idea why. I, myself, had called Cartman worse. Still, I found myself standing up, glaring up at the taller ravenette. "He didn't _do_ anything! He's a great guy! Well, he is to me at least" I argued, mumbling that last bit. I could not definitively say that Eric was a great guy, after all, he had fed a kid his own parents once. "He has held anti Jew rallies, Kyle!" Stan screamed the heat from his yelling hitting my face as if I had opened an oven. "He makes me happy!" I squeaked, clenching my eyes shut as I felt hot tears of anger begin streaming down my cheeks.

* * *

I had gone to the convenience store and had come back. This time as I paused to glare at Stan's house, I quickly realized that both he and my Kyle were outside now. I watched, trying to decipher what exactly was transpiring before me, lighting the cigarette I was holding between my lips. Whatever they were doing, at least they didn't seem to be getting along too well. Stan stood up, yelling something. Ay! That dumb-fuck jock just called me a fat tub of asshole! I felt my eyebrow twitch as I forced myself to stay in that spot across the street, clasping and unclasping my fists, taking a drag of my cigarette. My anger quickly dissipated, seeing Kyle get up from where he was seated in the snow, screaming something into Stan's face. My eyes widened as I caught scattered words from what he said. He was… defending me? That's… new. Well, not completely. He did save me from getting raped by Snooki once. I shuddered. Bad memories. Stan yelled something else; I wasn't really listening to him anymore. As far as I was concerned, Kyle had already won this fight. Of course… Kyle wins everything in my opinion. Except of course, debate class. That was strictly my forte. "He makes me happy!" the high-pitched scream reached even my ears, and I must say I was touched, a foreign feeling to me honestly. I sighed. Better, go break up the catfight, eh? I thought to myself, hearing the snow crunch as I began making my way across the street, using my tongue to move my cig from one side of my mouth to the other.


	16. Chapter 16

Again, silence enveloped my best friend and me. Well… would he still be considered that after tonight? This is why I had dreaded Stan's feelings. Feelings make it so easy to destroy everything that has stood for years. The way the steamy hair escaped Stan's nostrils as he breathed angrily and the small puffs escaping my own mouth as I tried to contain my sobs of fury, the way the wind whipped about us every now and again, the way Stan's eyes swirled in ferocity made me think that this really could be the end of us. "Stan…" I breathed; clutching myself as I finally felt the cold of the night air, trying not to shiver. He breathed, his chest heaving, looking away from me. I looked down at the snow, feeling my tears running down my flushed cheeks; hot and uncontrollable. "Why him, Kyle? Why him?" he spoke, just above a whisper, his voice raspy and broken in parts, as if he was trying to hold back tears. I shook my head, my wild red hair falling in front of my eyes. I couldn't answer him, because honestly… I had no idea. By all reason, I should hate the lard ass. Nevertheless… I just didn't. Moreover, as much as it pained me to see the tears rolling slowly down my best friends face, I could not change the way I felt for Eric. "I… I can't be around you right now, Kyle." Stan said finally, voice a broken whisper as he made his way back into his house. I sat in the snow, lip trembling. I may have just lost my best friend. And Eric… the way he acted that morning… I may have lost him as well.

"Hey." The curt call came as a shock to me, as did the crunching snow as the voice's owner approached me. I turned, looking up to find my so-called boyfriend, face apathetic, scarf flowing in the snowy winds. "Eric…" I choked out, barely being able to speak due to my body's violent shivering. I cursed myself for not thinking to grab my coat before trying to escape Stan's home. "Geez, Jew boy. You're gonna die out here. You aren't Kenny, remember?" he chuckled lightly, taking his sports jacket from his own shoulders and placing it over my own frail ones. His jacket nearly swallowed me, but I tugged it tighter around me appreciatively. "What… what are y-you doing here?" I asked, wincing a bit as he haphazardly wrapped his scarf around my neck. "Fuck… your lips are blue… I needed some cigarettes and I saw you out here." He explained, looking over my person with a worried expression on his beautiful face. I attempted to put a discernable sentence together, but failed as I shuddered. "Come on. You can come to my house." He said, pulling me to a standing position by my arm. He started leading me in the direction of his home. I used all the strength I had, (and admittedly, it wasn't a lot.) to pull myself from him, ending with me falling back into the snow. He sighed, turning to me and already squatting down to my eye level. "I'm not going anywhere with you…" hey. I actually managed a coherent sentence! "We really don't have time for you to stage a rebellion, Kyle." He said, face blank. "F-f-fuck off…" I stammered, noticing how much feeling I had lost in my extremities. He sighed, and the next thing I know, I'm slung over his shoulder and we're on our way down the street.

He dropped me on his bed unceremoniously. "I'm gonna go turn the heat up and get you some extra blankets." He informed me before turning and heading out of his room and down the hall. I curled myself into a ball, hugging my knees to my chest. I was still mad at him, and I was going to demand answers! … Just as soon as I stopped shivering. He returned a few moments later, holding a big poofy quilt. "Here. Wrap up in this." He instructed, and while I didn't want to comply with anything he said at the moment, my near-frostbitten fingers and toes begged me to take him up on his command. Therefore, I grabbed the quilt, wrapping it around myself and making a cocoon of warmth around my person as he sat down next to me on his bed. "About this morning…" he began, rubbing the back of his neck in a nervous kind of way. "What the fuck was your problem?!" I snapped, surprising him slightly. He recovered from it quickly, shooting me a glare. "I don't think everyone is ready to know about us." He said solidly. I frowned for a moment. "If people here can deal with Mr. Slave and Mr.… er… Mrs.… argh whatever! Mr. Slave and Garrison, then they can handle us!" I said, the warmth of his home quelling my shivering enough for me to speak, as I wanted now. "Kyle, we're sworn enemies. We _hate_ each other." He said slowly. "I don't hate you." I pouted. "And I don't hate you." he paused, giving me the first smile since our last night together. "But we were at each other's throats for our entire childhood. This will come as a shock to everyone. Especially your parents." He said and I pouted, hating how much sense he was making. It was true. And I hated that I had been so eager to make him into an asshole this morning. If someone saw us all cuddled up, then all of a sudden my mom is sending me off to the gay camp that Butters had been sent to before. "You get it now?" he asked softly and I let a quiet growl escape my lips. "You coulda told me that! Instead of acting like an ass!" I said, fixing him with a half-hearted glare. He chuckled softly. "Yeah, yeah, that's true." He paused, his chocolate eyes transfixed on me. "Don't suppose you'll grace me with a kosher kiss?" he asked, a sly smile gracing his lips. I giggled. What had he done to me? I know I told Stan that Eric hadn't done anything but… what happened to me? I went from spending years being angry with him to not being able to spend more than a day being upset with him. I dismissed my own thoughts, deciding that some things were better left unanswered and leaned forward, pressing my lips to his softly before sitting back. "Well it's late. We can't have you go home, now can we?" he asked, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. Oh dear. Him + mischievous usually = not good. "Why… why not? I'm warm now…" I asked, looking down at my feet. He rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. "Because. If your mom thinks you spent the night at Stan's, and you go home now, all of a sudden you have to answer a shit ton of questions about why you couldn't stay. You see?" he explained, scooching closer to me. I nodded, blushing as he pulled open my cocoon quilt and wormed himself inside it alongside me. "Looks like you're spending the night with me, my kosher angel"


	17. Chapter 17

**ok so chapter 17! whoop! thank you all for your time and support~ i was thinking of making this the last chapter but... i still have to show how stan takes this dont i? haha well f*ck. okidokes then! please review and favorite and all that jazz! :3**

* * *

He was on top of me in a matter of moments, the quilt tossed off to the side. "E…Eric…" I stammered, blushing as he leaned in and brushed his lips against mine. He grinned at me, eyes sparkling and messy brown hair falling over into his face and covering his eyebrows. I leaned forward, pressing my lips to his and earning a pleased grunt from the bigger male. He pulled back and grinned at me before licking his lips. "you're too perfect, kaaaaahl." He said, nuzzling into my neck as I blushed. "I…" I paused, gasping as he nipped the tender flesh of my neck softly, "I am far fro…m perfect…" I stammered slightly, him placing butterfly kisses along my neck and jaw line. Then he trailed down, still planting kisses till he came to my collarbone. He stopped, glancing up at me with that mischievous look in his eyes again. "E…Eric?" I stammered, gasping when he bit down on my collar bone. I trembled as he sucked one spot for a few minutes. He sat up, grinning again. "look, Kaaaaahl." He drawled, pointing to the spot where he had just previously been sucking. I craned my neck to look down at myself. There, just under my collarbone was the hugest hickey I had ever laid eyes upon. "C-c-c-Cartman!" I squeaked, yanking my t-shirt lower to try and get a better look at my new love-mark as he smiled contentedly. He began trailing his hands up my shirt, rubbing my flesh in little circles as he went, smiling lovingly at me. I blushed, biting my lip. When did – oh! He brushed one of my nipples!- when did his hands get so soft? He noticed how my body jumped when his fingertips ran over my slightly pert nipples (hey! It was the cold! I swear!) and he returned to them, rubbing them in little circles as I let little gasps and whimpers escape my lips until they were standing at attention. He leaned forward, pushing my shirt up to pool around my neck and shoulders, and placed his mouth around my left nipple, causing me to give a curt cry and involuntarily arch my back. He chuckled against my flesh, looking up into my flushed face. "Eric…." I said worriedly as his hands trailed down my sides, coming to a rest atop the button of my jeans. He pulled his lips from my chest, placing them upon my own lips before his hands began to fumble with the button of my pants. Oh dear. Oh dear. This is… ohhhh dear. I am not prepared. "Eric… I… I don't think we should." I stammered, hearing the click of metal buttons releasing. He pouted at me, but nodded pulling back a bit. "can we still make out?" he asked, his face flushed from the heated moments, but showed a stoic expression. I could nearly see the his blood pumping. He was definitely excited. And I was too, as the buldge in my sloppily unbuttoned pants continued to remind me, but I wasn't ready for that. I had deduced that I would probably be a "bottom" as Mr. Slave had put it (it was a very… erm… interesting sexual education class that year.), and I was okay with that, honestly. It was obvious even to me that it would be uncomfortable for both of us if I were to be a "top". And that was what scared me a bit. Being the bottom meant being penetrated. Being penetrated meant pain of some sort, seeing as to how I've never been with anyone before, especially not in that way. And I was a bit apprehensious of the pain that would come from being intimate in that way. I smiled at him, seeing the weird, concerned look he had given me when I didn't answer because I was lost in my thoughts. "of course!" I chirped, earning a pleased smirk from him.

I groaned as an annoying noise made it's way into my ear canal. Fucking… birds? I opened my eyes and immediately trained them on the window near the bed to find little blue jays and robins flittering around, singing me the song of their people just out side the chilled glass. I grumbled, turning on my side to turn my back to the inconsiderate little bastards. I was having such a nice dream too… Eric was with me and he kissed me so tenderly… but then those flying rats outside… wait what? my eyes shot back open focusing on the ceiling. That. Is not what the ceiling of my room looks like. Annd that, ladies and gentlemen, is when I noticed an unfamiliar yet comforting heat emanating from the space beside me on the bed. It groaned, turned and all of a sudden theres an arm, much bigger than my own, wrapped around my waist and pulling me to it. I blinked in disbelief as Eric Cartman sighed in happiness against my bright red hair and hugged me into his broad chest. Oh dear lord, it wasn't a dream. I had really spent the night here. And Cartman had really held me all night long. I was… surprised that I was acutally in his house, in his bed room and was here because he wanted me to be here, and I wanted to as well. Not because he had stolen something from me, or because I wanted to turn him ginger, no. H wanted me here, because I'm me; and I wanted to be here, because he is him. Our love was real, it wasn't a dream. Though the way he kissed my hair and forehead gently and caressed my skin as he held me as though I was a fragile but dearly needed china doll, all made it seem to be as such. No. it was real. I nuzzled into his chest, shivering with happiness. I didn't even care that at some point we were both naked. I loved Eric Cartman. And Eric Cartman loved me.


End file.
